Selling Candycanes
by BrightlyShining
Summary: You wake up to a world of love and sleep in being surrounded by pain. You went through hell on earth. And, god, you want him to feel it, too. Gibbs is being abducted after he stole her life - and it's not undeserved. /R&R? Please give me a chance!
1. Prologue

Guantánamo. Abu Ghraib. Bagram.

Provided by but out of the United States of America. Out of the purview of civil or human rights. Beyond benelovence, humanity and the dignity of men by far. A country that is proud of being the first true democracy -a nation _with liberty and justice for all_- adopted the USA PATRIOT ACT Thursday, October 25, 2001 and legalized the taking of every single right one has as soon as there is -founded or not- the suspicion of this very person being involved in terrorism.

This suspicion doesn't have to be a true one. It doesn't have to be reasonable. And most of all there doesn't need to be proof. The Attorney General's word is plenty enough. Innocent people are locked up all over the world. Beaten, humiliated, tortured and killed by the advocates of democracy who casually forget their ideals, their aim, the justice they are supposed to stand for.

Their victims disappear. They stay unregistered and nobody ever knows what happened to them - maybe they left their families due to a lack of loyalty, fortitude or sense of responsibility? They do not have the right of getting a fair trial, a lawyer or anything else than suffering. Their lifes are stolen from them. Only very few will return.

And if they do they are no longer who they used to be.

* * *

><p><em>AN: _

I came to notice that Gibbs is threatening suspects several times to bring them to Guantánamo if they do not cooperate and in one episode he even confesses that he was not pretending. Usually I like to watch this show but I can't help of being disgusted by those scenes. NCIS is politically biased and flattened all the time -not only concerning those camps but many other subjects as well- but there comes a point where it is hard to find tolerance for the inaccuracy and the generalization that are presented.

I don't think I have to remark that I don't own NCIS.

Rated T for critical discussion of political torture but no graphic descriptions.

Reviews are hightly appreciated. Please give me a chance!


	2. Waking Up

_A/N:_

I came to notice that Gibbs is threatening suspects several times to bring them to Guantánamo if they do not cooperate, and in one episode he even confesses that he was not pretending. Usually I like to watch this show but I can't help of being disgusted by those scenes. NCIS is politically biased and flattened all the time -not only concerning those camps but many other subjects as well- but there comes a point where it is hard to find tolerance for the inaccuracy and the generalization that are presented.

I don't think I have to remark that I don't own NCIS.

Rated T for critical discussion of political torture but no graphic descriptions.

Reviews are highly appreciated.

* * *

><p><em>Man is harder than iron, stronger than stone and more fragile than a rose. <em>

Turkish Proverb

* * *

><p>The november-night-cold breeze caused a shiver to run through her body, and the small glas pipe in her palm was not colder but the one true reason for her shaking hands. It had rained all day long which made her worry about two things. First of all there was a fair chance that she would leave footprints in the muddy ground or, worse, other evidence such as saliva or skin scales. Secondly it was a weather for accidents to happen and she wasn't sure how much longer she could wait for him to return home.<p>

The movement of a pidgeon in the treetop above her made her jump but she calmed down quickly for this had happened multiple times ever since the sun had sunk. It was dark and cold and yet there was life all around. A hedgehog had passed by only a couple of minutes ago and she had tried to resist remembering the old times, when she had been outside with her father many autumn evenings and found and raised an adorable, prickly, malnourished conspecific.

She sighted, fighting the sting she still felt whenever memory hit her. Opposed to what seems to be commonly believed physical and psychological pain both lessen but as long as they are constant in their excistence it is impossible to ever get used to them. They become persitent but not easy; bearable, indeed, but never _easier _to bear.

Suddenly the roaring sound of an engine caught her attention. Every muscle in her body tensed up within a second and she had to take a deep breath to relax enough to not run the risk of breaking the syringe. It had happened before - not with the named tool but other stuff. Glasses, dishes, pens. Even a fork. She had punched a whole in her apartment's wall; the outburst had crushed her right metacarpals, it had been difficult to explain the injury to the physician and so expensive she was still paying the due sum by installments.

The yellow, aerodynamic sportster turned into the driveway and screeched to halt.

She remembered how Ben hadn't stop begging her to buy a car like this. He had loved automobiles with passion but rarely gotten to simply sit in one. Of course his wish hadn't been one she had been able to give in to and a matchbox car of a smilar design had been the only thing to give to him. It had been right in the bottom nontheless and the toy had become a weird symbol of hope withing the past years. It was silly to imagine how he still owned this car and, maybe, had a look at it once in a while to think of her. A silly thought but the only good one she was able to think and keep. It was the most beautiful thing.

He got out of the car and looked good, better than she remembered, to tell the truth. As she noticed that this was indeed her first thought she felt the shame rising up inside her. To her satisfication her second observation was how tired he seemed to be. His steps were small and slow, his limbs seemed to be heavy, he yawned and, altogether, he had aged a lot during the past years. Watching him approach his porch like this almost awakened pity in her, as he wasn't on top of his abilities tonight, as he would be overwhealmed easily. Almost. Old animals or those that were close to death appeared helpless too but, hell, they weren't. They were just as deadly as their healthy comrades. Or worse. And he, in particular, hadn't thought about how how helpless _she_ had been. Or Benjamin. Or Suzanne.

She lightly shook her head, took one last breath and braced herself for the next step. The cold air filled her lung to the last corner. Her heartrate accelerated in an instant. Her mind was clear and focused. She swallowed, took a very last second to think about the plan and knew she was ready. It was what she needed. She was very well capable of doing it. It was the last fight she had to win. And then, eventually, everything would be better. He owed her some ease.

She left the bushes quickly and determined. Her steps were fast, yet light and silent on the ground, and the darkness seemed to almost swallow her humble excistance. As she grabbed his shoulder with one hand she felt his fingers tightly clasp her left wrist but he wasn't fast enough. Her other hand had already, without the least bit of a second of hesitation, driven the long needle in his neck and pressed down the plunger.

The impact of the muscle relaxant was a matter of seconds. He turned around and stood there long enough for her to realize that he did not remember her. Not seeing any of the anticipated recognition in his eyes made her shiver. His face seemed to have been burned deeply into her memory, impossible to erase from her thoughts whenever she closed her eyes. She tried to smile but it was a trie doomed to fail. A tear escaped her eye and streamed down her face, leaving a cold, wet track on her cheek.

And then he fell down, towards her, and she did not avoid his body. Instead she clenched her teeth until they gnashed, held out her arms and caught the heavy man, lying him down onto the ground in solicitude, almost endearment.

There he was. The great Marine, the unbeatable, uright hero - who would recieve the justice he stood for, who was about to get some taste of his own medicine. She could feel the contiguity of something like peace. It was coming closer and closer.

She slowly kneeled down next to him, searching her pockets for another syringe. The looked in his eyes for another time, knowing he was still able to see her. Oh, how much she wanted to tell him. Some of the beautiful threats she had thought about while trying to make it through another day, failing to get back what she deserved, lying awake for hours night after night, easing her mind with making up the greatest, most desirable revenge plans. He was helpless. What she could do to him now... oh, what she could so now.

"You don't need to be afraid of me, Mr. Gibbs", she mumbled instead and bit her lip the moment she said it. Never had she actually thought these words. _How d'ya like the taste of some waterboarding now?_ would rather have been the right thing to say than the stupid reassurance. She could have told him about things she would love doing to him; she could have shown him a knife, let him feel the could steel against his skin, increasing the pressure... she could, ore more: should, have killed him right away.

Then she put stabbed another needle into a muscle of his and pulled the narcotic into his system.

* * *

><p>She cuddled up next to Ben, who was calmly breathing next to her, and pulled the blanket up higher until it coverd all her body up to her chin. He gently caressed her hair.<p>

"Good night, little one. Sleep tight."

She yawned and smiled at the same time, fuzzily mumbling how she wasn't little.

"Yes you are, ultra-small midget", he responded teasingly and tickeld her under the chin. Sue giggled and squirmed with enjoyment of their ngihtly ritual under the blanket.

"Am not!", she laughed and rolled onto her back.

"Are too!", Ben said, tickling her harder.

"Noooo... stop! Stop it, Ben... stop!"

"Admit it!"

"I'm little, your the old, fat, grouchy geezer."

Ben stopped and grinned at her. "Now that's what I wanted to hear."

"You know I'm right, right?"

"I'll remember your words on my death-bed."

"You probably won't because you're gonna have alzheimer by then."

"I guess you'll remind me?"

Sue giggled again and gave her brother a cheeky smile.

"You bet!"

"Now what do we read tonight?", Ben moved on, as he did every night, and Sue, as she did every night as well, quickly jumped out of the bed to crouch down next to it and pick out a book. Only attending first grade for a month now she couldn't read too well but knew what the different titles looked like ever since she could remember. Due to the many nights they had spent this way the dialogue they had was as good as pre-written.

"Now come on, I don't want to stay up all night waiting for you to pick out something", Ben hustled desultory.

"Yeah, yeah. Just be patient."

"Hey, I'm not _that_ old, okay? I'm your big bro and being in this position I'm allowed to tell you to hurry up picking one out, yeah?"

"Sure, fogey", Sue scoffed and rolled her eyes, then jumped back to her feet and back into the bed. "This one."

Ben sighted. "Again?"

"Please?"

"Why don't you pick out something else?"

"Why don't you just start reading it to me?"

Sue curled up next to Ben again as he opened _Pippi In The South Seas_ and started off with the first chapter. They usually made it through two or three chater before Sue would get tired and fall asleep next to him. Sometimes Ben would read something else before going to sleep as well but most of the time he was content with one of the books he already held in his hands and would read some of his favourite parts. There are very few books you can grow up with, without ever growing out of them again.

But, all in the sudden violating their ritual, Sue interruped him after he had only made it through the first few pages.

"You think she's at some place like this, too?"

"What do you mean?"

"Taka Tuka land?"

"No, I meant... oh."

He went silent while Sue started to play with the edge of one of the pages. Not that she tried to stall the theme but Ben always took some time to get his thoughts in order before telling her about them. He, however, was the one to avoid it. maybe because he was the older sibling which gave him the convenient opportunity of pretending to protect his sister while he was really trying to protect himself from any more grief.

"Ben?"

"Huh?"

"Now what do you think? You didn't tell me, you just started asking another question. But didn't even finish it."

"I don't know."

"You don't know what you think? How can that be? You have to think _something_. It doesn't have to bright. Maybe you think _eat the pudding eat the pudding eat the pudding_?" She giggled, remembering the _Simpsons_ episode she had watched a few weeks ago but quoted at every occasion.

"I _am_ kind of hungry, you-"

"No way! Tell me what you think."

"I'm thinking that I don't want to talk about what I'm thinking."

"Why not? Wouldn't it be nice for her to be on an island?"

"Yes... maybe."

He sighted and put the book away, rolled to his side and stared at the wall to hide a tear from his sister.

"I hope she's there. She'd have fresh bananas all the time, you know?", Sue dwelled on thoughts with a childish kind of light-hearted insouciance that Ben could only admire, "It's a hot island, I don't think they have winter there. But there's sand and a beach and maybe it's a little bit like paradise, don't you think so too?"

He swallowed as he felt Sue's hand soothingly tapping his shoulder.

"Maybe she'll come back", she whispered, "why should there not be hope?"

"Yeah, as if."

"You _know_ you can't ever give up hope."

"Says who?"

"You said that. In the first new family."

Again, there was silence until Sue breathed a soft "Sleep tight" and closed her eyes, knowing her brother wouldn't give her an answer, or probably couldn't. She had asked him many times where her sister had gone to and he had never known it. She could not force an answer that he wasn't able to give.

But the truth was Ben knew very well what his answer would be like.

She wouldn't come back to them. Leaving someone wasn't a decision that left the option of coming back. And, after all, why would she want to return to them anyway?

And actually he didn't want her back either.


	3. Getting Dressed

_A/N:_

I came to notice that Gibbs is threatening suspects several times to bring them to Guantánamo if they do not cooperate, and in one episode he even confesses that he was not pretending. Usually I like to watch this show but I can't help of being disgusted by those scenes. NCIS is politically biased and flattened all the time -not only concerning those camps but many other subjects as well- but there comes a point where it is hard to find tolerance for the inaccuracy and the generalization that are presented.

I don't think I have to remark that I don't own NCIS.

Rated T for critical discussion of political torture but no graphic descriptions.

Reviews are highly appreciated.

Sincere thanks for the review I got and to everyone who put this story on alert or favourites.

Nonetheless I would love to get some more reviews? Because according to my statistics there've been a lot mor readers.

**Those first few chapters of the story will make more sense later!**

* * *

><p><em>We're born alone, we live alone, we die alone. Only through our love and friendship can we create the illusion for the moment that we're not alone.<em>

_Orson Wells_

* * *

><p>"Mr. Gibbs?" The voice was soft and seemed to be very distant, which wasn't bad since he didn't care where it came from anyway. A supressed feeling told him something wasn't alright at all but he was tired, his head lay on something soft and comfy and before he was able wonder why it did his mind drifted off to rest again. It wasn't warm but it didn't bother him. He was so <em>relaxed<em>. The world was smooth and his sleep had been deep and calm...

"Mr. Gibbs?" The voice was louder this time and more forceful than it had been before. He moaned to get, whoever it was, to shut up but the stranger just would't let him sleep. "Are you alright?"

The feeling of a light drizzle on his forehead got him to finally open his eyes, although his eyelids almost drooped as he grew more and more tired.

He looked into a pair of white open, hazel eyes that were filled with tears of worry. Blinking and taking another look Gibbs saw the woman they belonged to. Her hair was long and of the colour of her eyes. Her skin was naturally dark but looked pale though and she was thin, to say the least, if not scrawny. She sat down next to him, observing him carefully.

"I think you should drink some water", she said and thrusted an opened plastic bottle in his hand. Gibbs didn't move, slowly processing what was going on.

"Where am I?"

She bit her lip for a second, but the worried look disappeared from her face.

"I can't tell you yet. But eventually you'll find out. Now drink. Please."

"No I won't."

"But you should. It's important. You'll feel better."

He shook his head. "I won't drink from this bottle."

"But it will make you feel be-"

"I will _not_ do it!" She jumped as he interrupted her harshly but calmed down quickly and appeared to be thinking. Then she smiled, grabbed the bottle and drank from it before giving it back.

"Will you drink something now?"

He sighted, slowly raised the bottle to his lips and took a small drink. She sighted, probably relieved, but stood up the next second to create more distance. It was only then that Gibbs took a look at where he was. From what he could see it was a basement of no more than probably ten or twelve square meters. He lay in the left ulterior corner, hands chained in front of his body and the chain connected to a steel hook in the wall above him. A single light bulb bathed the room in yellow, crepuscular light. A slim air matress lay at the opposite part of the room but was too far for him to reach.

The young woman sat down on it, not taking her eyes off him.

"I hope you are going to feel better soon."

"Why do you care?"

She smiled. "It's what I always do."

"You brought me here, didn't you?", he asked needlessly and took another swig of the bottle. The cool, smooth liquid connected his mind back with reality and put some life into himself. She took note of it with a content nodd and, realizing that she was pleased, Gibbs stopped drinking.

"You don't remember?"

"Would I ask if I did?"

"You wouldn't. So yes, I sedated you. I am your abductor."

Gibbs swallowed and clenched his teeth as he fought against the fear he was about to feel. Luwait had taught him that fear didn't mean weakness and of course it didn't mean there could be no courage either. He hated to fear things though. No matter how strong the better knowledge... it _made_ him feel weak. He was vulnerable and it was nothing he had to feel comfortable with.

"Why am I here?"

She crossed her legs and tilted her head. "You're going to find out soon enough."

"You don't hide your face from me."

"Does it tell you anything?"

"You're not trying to press money from anyone."

"Yes", she nodded, "if this would be my intention staying as anonym as possible would be smarter."

"So what _is_ your intention?"

"I am dead."

"And yet we are having a conversation."

"But you see... you're alive as long as someone is looking out for you. People who _live_ have someone who cares about them. Or maybe even someone who hurts them, hates them and tries to destroy their lifes but they always, always have _someone_. The people who miss one are the only proof of life one ever really has."

"I will be missed, if that's what you're up to. I have family."

"I know. You can consider yourself lucky."

"Then you don't really know anything."

"I am all alone. Whatever it is you're hinting at... I have less."

"My people are going to kill you within a blink if you're pulling anything funny, be sure of that."

She giggled and threw her hands in the air and, only for a moment, he saw pure pain conquering her face. "This won't be necessarry. Mr. Gibbs, I am saving myself. I used to have family too and I used to have friends and people I could turn to. You stole my life. I want it back."

"So this is revenge?"

"No! No, oyu don't _understand_ what this is about. I want to live. I want to be remembered and you don't know who I am. You don't even recognize the one you killed. All I want is to be remembered. All I want is to find my way into somebody's memory. I want you to know who I am!"

"Alright, then who are you?"

"And this is where things get a little tricky. I lost myself so eventually you'll need to tell me. Everything and everyone has been taken from me and you were the one to take it; so, Mr. Gibbs, tell me, I demand to get back what I once had, what I _deserve_ - Who am I?"

* * *

><p><em>Suzanne Cavanaugh, please report to the office immediatley.<em>

"You heared it, Suzanne", sighted Miss Flonson, her classroom teacher, and didn't even trie to look surprized, "I don't think you'll come back due to the end of the period so I expect you to finish your assignment at home, okay?"

Sue didn't bother giving an answer and carelessly threw her pens and notebook in her backback. Ben would very likely help her finishing it and even though Miss Flonson never seemed to be content with Sue as a person she couldn't deny the excellence of her work. There wasn't a firstgrader around who made less mistakes in grammar and spelling and she had been theb first one to add up doubledigit figures. Flawless, as a matter of fact.

"Suzanne, did you understand?"

"No coming back. Finish at home. Understanding. Yeah."

"I don't like your tone, young lady."

"I know you never do, Ma'am", Sue answered sarcastically, mumbling a low-voiced "And I don't like you, bitch" to herself. There really wasn't anything else to say to a person who was wonderful with kids to a level at which it became creepy, at least in Sue's opinion. She had been with too many _wonderful_ people to trust any of them and being nice, or at least polite, to those she didn't trust was an art Sue did not master.

"You can take a note to your parents right with you, if that's what you want."

It was one of the mistakes a _really_ good teacher would not make, but Miss Flonson kept saying _parents_ instead of guardians once in a while. Sue didn't mind the error but for she minded the one who made it she refused to overlook it.

"Oh _no_, I'm sure they'll turn over in their graves."

William Sanchez, the teacher's pet in the front row, giggled audibly and drew Miss Flonson's attention to himself for a moment. Sue slipped out of the room before she could be stopped and made her way to the office, knowing why she they were most likely demanding for her. And, needless to say, knowing what she had to act like.

"Hey Sarah, how are you doing?"

Sarah, the office assistant and only person Sue actually liked in this school, smiled at the young girl as she entered the room. She was quite sure that Sarah liked her as well but had no idea why she did.

"Fine", Sarah said in a chatting tone, "Chad is feeling better every day."

"He is? That's so good to hear! Tell him I said _hi_, yes? And that I hope he'll get well soon."

Chad was Sarah's husband and gradually recovering from radiotherapy.

"Sure I will. Now... I guess you're not feeling too bad either?"

"Nah, it's been a nice day."

"Did you ever considered that it could have been a nicer one without getting in trouble?"

Sue laughed out loud, as she did every time Sarah asked her the question. "I would, but hatever it is, Sarah, it's not my fault."

"You know you can't keep denying it all you life."

"I won't. One day I'll give you proof."

Sarah made a declining motion and nodded her head towards Elaina Johnson's, the principal's, door. "Whatever. You can go through."

"Yeah. Have a nice day."

Sue had stopped caring about most of her concerns a long time ago and quicly found out that it was easier that way. She didn't care about the world and the world didn't care about her. Everyone was happy with it. Or, maybe, unhappy. But who could ever be sure of the details?

She opened the door without knocking and paused for a moment as she saw more people than usual sitting in the small office, that smelled like paper and eau de cologne.

"Hey Miss Johnson." Nodding towards the heavy, sweaty woman behind the desk. Then she truned to a smaller person who looked mean, strict and too neat but was actually fun. "Hey Alexa."

"Sue", Alexa began and gave Sue the look she gave her all the time.

"Sure, _manners_", Sue replied, squared her shoulders and lowered her head to a deep bow, "Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. It is an absolute pleasure to meet you today and I hope you'll be able to enjoy the show!"

"_Sue_!"

"It's okay", Miss Johnson intervened and her double chin naturally supressed her smile, "I see you're already making progress, Mrs. Hayes. Suzanne, sit down."

"No, thanks."

Both women sighted. "Sue-"

"It's a matter of principles and not up for negotiation."

"Fine. Do you know why you're here?"

"For no reason."

"Oh yes?"

"You heared me."

"And, apparently, you skipped thinking one more time. We have proof. Johnny Myers' parents complained about how you were picking on his body weight _again_. You've been here for only a month and there were barely two days going by wíthout any complains being made. This can't go on the way it does, Suzanne. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"This sonofabitch deserved what he got", Sue mumbled and while the angry look Alexa gave her proofed that her guardian had heared the words Miss Johnson missed them completely.

"Would you speak up a little?"

"He got what he deserved. He's being mean to the entire grade and nobody complains about him because it doesn't change anything. If that fat bastard can't keep his hands off other children's stuff, and by _stuff_ I mean their money and their candy, he isn't empowered to complain about a gym shoe full of whipping cream and a splash of gas in his _stolen_ Coke."

"Suzanne, gas is highly toxic. You could have killed him!"

"It was _my_ Coke, I can do with it whatever pleases me and I coincidentally felt like flavouring it with some gasoline this morning! If _he _steals _my _toxic Coke how is it my fault? And he didn't even swallow it. He's fine. I just had art class with him and it didn't do any damage, not even to his lovely character."

"You are missing the point. We can't just let you do stuff that is as dangerous as what you pulled today and you aren't even allowed to bring gasoline to school. And I doubt that you got that stuff legally, anyway."

Sue felt the fury rising up inside her in a twinkling. "And _you_, little miss super-justice, are _totally_-"

"I _know _Johnny isn't free of guilt. That's why you aren't expelled but suspended for the rest of this and the following week. But you better be careful. Thank you for coming in Mrs. Hayes. Have a good rest of the day."

* * *

><p>The same night Sue lay awake next to Ben. He had stopped reading to her after five chapters, realizing that she wouldn't drift off to sleep in the usual way. It was late by now, even for her older brother, but she couldn't keep her eyes shut.<p>

"Ben?", she whispered into the dark, not even sure if he was still awake. As he didn't respond she pushed him in the ripcage and he turned around to her moaningly.

"Go to sleep."

"I tried to."

"Try harder."

"I was thinking."

"Will you let me sleep if I listen to what you were thinking about?"

Sue nodded, realized that he couldn't see the motion.

"I don't think I want her to be on a warm island. She can go to hell. I don't care anymore."


End file.
